


Thanksgiving Treat

by Forgotten_Logic



Series: Random Short Stories [4]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Belly Kink, Established Relationship, Feeding Kink, M/M, Mechpreg, The Author Regrets Nothing, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 14:16:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9388856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forgotten_Logic/pseuds/Forgotten_Logic
Summary: Just the pair having some turkey and having some sort of family bonding between the two.





	

Optimus had been helping with making the grub with Megatron. It being Thanksgiving meant (for Megs) to have lots of food and bonding time with his mate. That's what the pair did for last few years but now was different: Optimus was carrying.

He was a little less than halfway through and it showed, he didn't have to be ordered to bed rest just yet but he did waddle. His frame had noticeably grown heavy and Megatron reveled in how Optimus needed his help from time to time, how he couldn't get up by himself. He hadn't gotten seriously stuck anywhere yet. Key word, _yet._ Megatron would enjoy that sight.

But until that joyous day, he'd be cooking. Then there came a tired huff from Optimus which Megatron noticed. Optimus just waved off the worried look in his mate's optics, Megatron wasn't so sure. He plunked in the mecha bird in the oven and strode over to his mate. His digits splaying all over until, "I'm fine Megzie. I'm only tired." 

He hesitated but his now blunt digits slid over from Optimus' middle to his hips. "Oh, all right. The bird's in so why don't we go and lie down, hmm?" Megatron's digits slowly jumped from hips to servos, a pleading look in his optics. Optimus, though still a Prime, had his stubborn streak about him, especially now. He rolled his optics and did a low sigh, but his frame did sag. Megatron took this as invitation to slip his servos from those servos to under that supple aft, eliciting a squeak from the carrier. 

"Well, since you already have me up, why not," Optimus grumbled, optics downcast, though not in embarrassment. He was tired. His arms wrapped around Megatron's neck, allowing himself to be carried. His frame slumped against Megs, his heat and abdomen slid against his own, though Optimus' was much softer than his own, his armor was already removed. 

Mecha who carried didn't have to remove their armor until it started to pinch, Optimus wanted to have it taken off before it really became an issue. So that left him soft, and he could have more fuel in his tanks than before. And if anything, he needed the extra fuel; sparklings take a lot of energy to make. 

Megatron reveled in feeding him until he could barely move. How Optimus would have to ask Megatron for help getting up and going to berth, that made Megatron's spark flutter. It was often quite arousing and enjoyable for Megatron. Optimus seemed to be fond of it, too; that may or may not be a reason why Optimus was carrying now. You know, a sexy, round, soft mech, is fun to dominate.

Megatron, still holding Optimus, walked to the living room and plopped him on the couch. He let out a peep and was about to voice a complaint when Megs draped a fluffy blanket over him. He mewled a thanks and promptly snuggled the blanket close to his frame. 

Megatron grabbed the remote and sat down beside him, snaking his arm around his mate, gently stroking the hidden silver thigh. The blue helm laid on the silver frame and blue optics closed. 

He enjoyed Optimus being like this; no guns shooting at them, no war, he only wished they could have come together sooner. And as it would seem, a sparkling is what changed his mind. Megatron should have fragged his Prime sooner. 

But with the sparkling and being on a newly restored planet, he now worried about things he hadn't before. Like how to be a good sire, but in moments like this, they seemed to fade to null buzz in the back of his processor. 

Sometime passed, the first alarm went off for the mecha bird. It won't be long now until it's done. That's what he hoped anyway, it meant Optimus would be fed to the brim today.

It was actually Optimus' idea to cook a mecha bird. The Terran holiday Thanksgiving happened to coincide as well, and his Autobots were on Earth for a few years. They happened to encounter the holiday a time or two and Optimus had found it quite captivating. Soon, the holiday will be even more captivating for Megs.

The second timer went off. The bird's done. Optimus had roused from his light recharge at the sound, he went to push Megatron to get it but found that he wasn't there. He grumbled and kept the blanket over his shoulder like a youngling with a cape as he got up. As he got the kitchen he heard the sound of the oven being closed back up with a kick. 

Megatron put the bird down on the counter. When he turned around, anyone could have mistook his flinch as fear. "I see you have gotten it out," Optimus whispered. Megatron regained his composure and nodded slowly to his mate. "I did not think you'd be the one to get it." He walked up to the red and blue frame. "You were a bit preoccupied," Megs said as his servos splayed over the armor, a heat from removing the dish was still present on the tips of his digits. 

The little echoes of heat make Optimus lean into the touch, making Megatron smirk ever so slightly. "It's done. If you would – or I can – get some silverware," he said quietly, edging away slowly. Optimus quietly whined, and walked over to the drawer that held forks, knives, spoon, and the like, and grabbed two of each. Knives in one and forks and spoons in the other. Optimus asked, “Do you want help bringing the food over?” Optimus placed down the silverware carefully on the surface of the table, waiting for a response. “No, no, you sit. I’ve got it,” he said while carefully coming to the table, arms full. There was a quiet mumble from his vocalizers after the bird was down, “plates,” he said simply.

He spun on his heels and walked back to the kitchen. Optimus assumed it was something that he forgot, because he didn't quite hear Megs’ mumble mere moments ago. 

Megatron should hurry, the aromas were very, very good. The smells and thoughts of the juicy bird, the stuffing, the sauce, made his tanks give an undignified growl. Megatron walked in as the whine died. Optimus’ servo patted the curved mesh.

“I can see you're both hungry, let's get to this while it's fresh then, eh?” Megatron used a knife and sliced a chunk off, the meat steaming little smooth clouds. After getting enough for his conjunx, he grabbed a spoon and dished out some stuffing, and topped it all off with some gravy. Sliding over the plate, Optimus saw it was piled high, vents silently hitching. He whispered, “thank you” and started to eat. Megatron gave himself a healthy serving all the same, it did smell good. He didn’t get to eat very much though, his optics were busy looking at his conjunx.

Optimus picked at the food, cutting the meat with the corner of the fork instead of using his knife. Half of it had already been piled into his tanks, just enough to push the soft mesh outwards, just a little further. Megatron pretended to pay attention to his own food, but his optics still strayed. 

He couldn't pay attention at all when Optimus groaned at the sweet and spicy flavor of the stuffing. Each fork full filled up Optimus’ mouth and slid down his intakes for another round. The sauce tried to drip away but his glossa caught it, a little on the salty side but is paired well with the bird and stuffing. It certainly made the plate get emptied quicker, or that’s what Megatron thought quietly. He made another plate and slid it over, Optimus took it the rest of the way. Megatron watched as he continued to fill his own maw.

Their silent exchange went on like that for a while, until the bird was nothing more than a mass of bones with little surviving meat, the stuffing was being picked clean from the dish, but there still was some gravy. Optimus, oh, his belly reached as far at the table. It made him look like he was about ready to have that sparking. He let out a near pained noise, his secondary tank reservoir was half full. Each vent he took shook his belly and Megatron wasn’t better off. He had his own full gut, the armor pinched. He patted and rubbed, trying to ease his own discomforts. “You, rub my belly,” it sounded more pained than an order.

Megatron moved over his chair by slowly getting up and pushing it. If he hopped while still in the chair, he’d regret eating so much. After he sat back down, his servos rubbed at his conjunxes belly. It was hot but it was still soft, there was still a little room left. Dessert perhaps? Megatron liked the idea, but at the moment, he wanted to just touch. “Geez, we really ate all that?” he whined, Megatron met his line of sight, meeting the meatless bird. Megatron nodded with a small chuckle, squeezing some of that soft mesh in his digits. “You had a lot of it.” Optimus’ optics narrowed, “Don’t pin it all on me!”

“I didn’t!”

“You did!”

Megatron leaned in as far Optimus’ belly would allow, pecked the silver lips. There was still a taste of gravy and stuffing lingering there. “Hey, I get a gut too,” he said while popping off the armor that pinched and left indentations on his own mesh. It clanked with the floor. The mesh bulged on his lap, also soft. “One thing’s different,” Optimus groaned. “I’m the one carrying… and… I can’t move. You know who did that?”

Megatron smirked. “I’d do it again.” Optimus looked at him with a playful blue gleam. “An exception: you’re carrying next.” It was Optimus’ turn to smirk. “Or do you like me all round?” There was a playful edge, but Megatron’s digits seemed to have frozen in place on that warm, squishy belly. Optimus grunted, trying to redistribute the weight that had now settled in his tanks - both. He also noticed the blush on Megs’ face. Aww! “It’s not like it bothers me. I did mention doing this.” Optimus patted the silver servo. “On multiple occasions.”

Megatron breathed out, his frame’s heat radiated off of his armor. His red optics had dimmed all the while seemingly tracing the red and silver body. “It isn't that,” he spoke softly, Optimus knew how to take him down a couple of notches, gently. The silver digits continued again, much slower this time. “How are you such a good carrier?” He didn't mean for it to be audible, instead it came out of his vocalizers as a squeak. 

Optimus heard his quiet squeak, exactly what Megs hoped he didn't. But how do you not hear a squeak in a near silent room? The black servo grabbed one silver servo, giving Megatron a soft look. “I'm guessing as I go, I assure you,” reassurance in his voice. “But you know, you're here with me, and that's all that matters.” Optimus gently pulled the servo to his own silver lips. One little kiss to the knuckles made Megatron blush madly. “I thought I was the shy one,” he jokingly smirked. 

“I'm not shy.”

“Of course you're not, sweetspark. Of course.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have a feeling that there will be a sequel.


End file.
